Wet Desert: Tracking Down a Terrorist on the Colorado River (70 page)

"Hurry!" warned Lloyd from the helicopter.

As Grant dragged the man forward in the rising water, he saw the helicopter moving to meet him. They were close when Grant tripped and both men went down. Grant went under. The water felt gritty. He hoisted himself back to his feet and grabbed the environmentalist again. He wondered how on earth they would be able to get the man to the helicopter, but then noticed that Lloyd had positioned the landing gear right in front of them. The pilot kept the chopper close and dipped the landing gear in the water. Grant grabbed on, and helped the man loop his arms over also. The water behind pressed them against the chopper for a second before Lloyd lifted and both men were pulled out of the water. Although Grant had both arms over the landing gear at his armpits, his body and wet clothing felt heavy and he wondered how long he could hold on.

He looked over and saw the other man was struggling. He had the look of pain in his eyes. Grant shouted to be heard over the noise of the rotors. "Hold on!"

The man nodded, but he didn't look like he could go much longer. He looked back at Grant, and stared for a moment.

Grant repositioned his arm over the other man's shoulder to help. The helicopter smoothly accelerated and they skirted the gray water. Grant wondered if Lloyd could find a place to set them down. He knew he couldn't last very long. He saw the environmentalist's eyes roll into the top of his head again,
then
his eyelids close for a while. The helicopter jerked and the man's eyes opened and focused on Grant's. Although the noise of the rotors made communication impossible, Grant's eyes and the
environmentalist's
locked. "Who are you?" Grant mouthed.

The man shook his head. Grant thought his lips mouthed, "It doesn't matter."

Grant agreed. It didn't matter. Although he already knew the answer that all of
America
wanted to know, Grant asked the question anyway. "Why?"

Grant saw recognition in the other man's face. The man looked down at the black water below the helicopter,
then
he stared upstream at the blackness that obscured the Colorado River Delta. The man stared back into Grant's eyes and smiled. Not a funny smile, nor an evil or mischievous smile. It was subtle and reserved, and communicated satisfaction and happiness. Grant felt the muscles in the man's arms relax. Grant tensed and stared into his eyes.

"No!" he shouted. "Don't!"

But the man just looked back at Grant. He let himself slip down until he was holding the landing gear with only his hands. Grant lunged and put his arm over the environmentalist's hand. The man stared at Grant for a brief moment, then closed his eyes, and released his grip. Grant tried to hold him so he wouldn't fall. He didn't want to let him go. He didn't want to let him get away. He didn't want him to die. But he felt the man's hand slipping out from under his arm. He grabbed at his wrist, but the dead weight was too much. The man fell, still looking up at Grant, still with that subtle smile, still with those haunted eyes, dropping into the black water below. And then he was gone.

They searched for him. The helicopter swerved back and forth where the man dropped. Lloyd circled, and Special Agent Williams swept the spotlight back and forth. Grant hung on to the landing gear, and focused downward, afraid to blink. But he saw nothing. He knew they wouldn't find him. He was gone. And so finally they gave up. Agent Williams opened the door and encouraged Grant while they flew him to a dry spot where they could land safely. Grant's arms ached from holding on, but he knew he would make it.

Looking down, there was only darkness, an endless expanse of black water, water that might have been in
Lake
Powell
only the day before, and now flowed into the
Gulf of California
.
The fresh water mixing with salt for the first time in seventy-five years.

EPILOGUE

September 10

9:30 a.m. - Highway 89, East of
Kanab
,
Utah

Grant had not been back to
Lake
Powell
since the disaster over two months before. For part of that time he had not been allowed. The two-month stretch since the bombings would always be remembered by him as a period of high highs and low lows, a period when sometimes he hated the world, and other times he could not believe his good fortune.

The previous day, Fred had retrieved Grant from the
Las Vegas
airport for a day at
Hoover
, then a drive to
Glen
Canyon
.
Hoover
had changed dramatically since June when Grant had last seen it. Gone forever
was
Hoover-Two and the thousands of sandbags that had created her. Gone were the high water levels. Gone were the throngs of National Guardsman. Gone were the FBI special agents in their blue coveralls. All of these had been replaced by a new white high water mark on the rocks around
Lake Mead
, a testament to the height of the flood that would last for generations.

To Fred's question of whether anything looked different, Grant had responded that it almost looked like nothing had happened at
Hoover
. Fred had laughed and took Grant to see the spillways. On the way to the
Nevada
spillway, Grant noticed that two buildings, the snack bar and the gift shop, both which had been on the water side of Hoover-Two, were missing. Fred had explained that the water damage had been severe enough that they would both need to be rebuilt.

The
Nevada
spillway itself had changed dramatically. The round spillway tunnel dropping into the hillside had been severely eroded. It was no longer round. The concrete had been stripped off the bottom showing exposed jagged rocks. The shape was almost square now, except for the bottom left, which looked like it had a deep tear in it. Deeper in the mountain, Grant could see more places where the concrete was completely gone and where large openings expanded beyond his vision. Inside the concrete retaining walls where Grant had authorized demolition, the ragged concrete edges had been worn smooth by the water. Only a small stream, maybe three or four feet deep, still flowed down the spillway, as the water in
Lake Mead
had almost dropped below the spillway openings.

Grant asked Fred if the
Arizona
spillway was worse or better. Instead of explaining, Fred drove him over. Although the erosion seemed less severe inside the spillway itself, the concrete arch bridge spanning the
Arizona
spillway had been weakened enough to warrant future demolition and replacement.

Fred explained that in a week or two, after the water in the dam had lowered enough to completely dry out the spillways, inspection crews would descend on ropes deep inside. They expected to find huge caverns hollowed out by the forces of the water.

After the tour at
Hoover
, the two men had headed northeast on I-15 toward
St. George
,
Utah
. The two-hour journey and dinner afterwards had given them ample time to rehash the events of the two dramatic days in June. Although Grant had known Fred for years, June had changed their relationship. They were bonded by the experience, and both knew they would be close friends for life.

During the conversation over dinner, Fred asked if Grant had heard from Roland Blackwell. Fred had smiled when he asked the question, knowing the answer. Of course he hadn't heard from Roland, nor would he ever. Roland and Grant had become bitter enemies in the aftermath of those two days. Fred had joked that they should make up and
spend
Thanksgiving together. Grant laughed and agreed that the only time the commissioner would be allowed in his home would be when Grant had a carving knife in his hand.

Back in June, when Grant and the others had flown back from
Mexico
into the
United States
, without the environmentalist, and had told their story to the authorities, federal charges were filed against Grant for illegal pursuit across international borders, illegal border crossing, and even abetting a felon. Although all charges were eventually dropped, Roland and the Bureau of Reclamation had placed Grant on disciplinary suspension while they conducted their own internal investigation. To add insult to injury, the Bureau had filed a restraining order against Grant preventing him from approaching within ten miles of any dam or edifice controlled by the Bureau of Reclamation.

As part of the suspension, Grant had been warned not to talk to any media representatives, or he would be immediately terminated and his pension would be forfeited. Although Grant had thought the treatment was unfair, he had tolerated it, thinking that eventually the truth would be known. However, when the Bureau publicly blamed Grant for the failures of Head Gate Rock, Palo Verde, and Imperial Dams, Grant had heard enough. In mid July, he agreed to a series of interviews on television to clear his name. He told the truth, including the Bureau's lack of support for Hoover-Two, which experts agreed had saved
Hoover
,
Davis
, and Parker Dams. Governor Rally Jenkins of
Nevada
appeared on Larry King Live and backed up Grant's story. The Bureau of Reclamation fired Grant in retaliation. Grant reported his treatment on national news. The public believed Grant. A media circus followed, and editorials around the country screamed for the government to throttle management at the Bureau of Reclamation. The Bureau became a public example of big bad government. A week later, Roland Blackwell resigned, saying that he wanted to spend more time with his family. The next day, Grant was reinstated at the Bureau, and the President of the
United States
flew to
Colorado
and held a press conference, publicly thanking him for his heroic efforts at
Hoover
and the other dams downstream. The helicopter flight into
Mexico
was never mentioned.

No, Grant and Commissioner Blackwell would never be friends.

After dinner in St. George, Grant and Fred retired to separate rooms of a small motel on

After the dust settled in late June, the environmentalists went crazy. There were parades in
Las Vegas
and
Los Angeles
. T-shirts were sold by the thousands. Many showed a picture of the Glen Canyon Dam being blown up by a mushroom cloud of fire. The Los Angeles Times and other prominent newspapers across the country showed a front-page color shot of some pelicans swimming in the restored Colorado River Delta in
Mexico
. Environmentalists dominated TV talk shows and speculated how fast the delta would recover. They hypothesized how many birds would return, and guessed at how many fish would nest in the delta next year and the year after. There were environmental theories in abundance and the media seemed willing to oblige them all.

By the fourth of July, a rumor took hold that the bomber had survived. Many claimed to have seen him. Some said he was short, some tall, but all described him as a skinny guy with a limp from his broken leg, both of which had been reported in the news. Some said that he was living in
Mexico
, but the majority opinion had him moving to
Oregon
where he was preparing to single-handedly do something to stop deforestation.

For the first few days after the incident, helicopters had flown grid patterns over the
Gulf of California
searching for his body. They found the four-wheeler, but not the environmentalist. The missing body fueled the rumors that he was still alive, but Grant didn't believe it.

By early July, the FBI had raided the RV storage facility in Page and confiscated the first white pickup. They had already retrieved the second truck, parked just off the highway in
Mexico
. From the two vehicles, they figured out the bomber's identity, which led them to cell phone records of the phones used to detonate
Glen
Canyon
, credit card receipts for food and gas on the bomber's route, and a rundown house in
East Las Vegas
with traces of ammonium nitrate fertilizer in the back yard. They also found some unused homemade detonators in one of the kitchen cabinets. The license plate on a motorcycle parked in the garage matched one that passed through a roadblock in
Utah
the morning of the first bombing. They released the name of the bomber (more commonly referred to in the media as the environmentalist) as Jeffrey Calhoun, an electronics technician employed by a large lighting contractor in
Las Vegas
. Co-workers described him as a social recluse with no close friends, but very smart, especially with electronic devices. Neighbors described him as private. Most of his acquaintances were aware of his environmental concerns, and in fact many considered him fanatical. An elderly woman next door said that Calhoun refused to water his lawn, eventually converting the landscaping to cactus, and encouraged her to do the same. She refused, however, maintaining a healthy green lawn, which had seemed to irritate Calhoun.